


Watercolor Lights

by Popples123



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Lights, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Painting, Vampires, my friend wants me to tag this as soft gay dumbfucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 11:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13122501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Popples123/pseuds/Popples123
Summary: All Louis wants to do is see the Christmas lights





	Watercolor Lights

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own these characters, they belong to Anne Rice.
> 
> Written as part of the VCSecretGift thing for the wonderful Onceuponadisneywish on Tumblr! Merry Christmas, I hope you enjoy<3
> 
> ((This is my first attempt at writing a VC fic so deepest apologies if it's not that great!))

“Louis de Pointe du Lac, if you think for a second that our first proper Christmas together will be spent without the highest quality of decorations complimenting every part of our home then you are painfully wrong, mon cher. From what corner of hell did these come from?”

If Louis were not used to most things he gifts to his maker being met with over-dramatic disappointment because it is not of “ _un prix élevé_ ”, he thinks he would be genuinely offended over the reaction he’s just received. However, this was somewhat expected, and although a little appreciation would be nice, Louis manages a smile.

“Shall I search for something more appropriate to your desires, then?”

Lestat scoffs, flaps his hand in the general direction of the cherry wood door, and he nods vigorously. “Why is this a question? Yes, Louis, you must go find something else immediately. I can’t stand the sight of those cheap lights.”

A timid bow of his head and then Louis has vanished back into the mortal world, ever the eager-to-please lover. Lestat follows to check that he really is gone and then, seizing his precious and often rare alone time, he rushes back over to the desk situated in the center of the study underneath a plush burgundy rug, and he sets to work.

On several outdated newspapers lies an A3 watercolor paper, and next to it seventeen paintbrushes and a palette with several colors, some mixed and others untouched. Lestat swishes one of the thinner brushes in a cup of water, dips the brush into a forest-green blob of paint, and glides it across his paper with intense concentration. He is just about to swap colors when the door swings open noisily. The handle rattles with the force and Lestat’s head shoots up.

Red flushes Louis’s cheeks – he must have fed while he was gone. Lestat rises once again while hurriedly concealing his art, and he inspects Louis’s next proposed decoration from a distance.

Louis has abandoned the previous tacky multicolored lights most humans in this country seem to own nowadays, and has chosen a set that emit a warm gold color. They will create a wonderful ambiance, Lestat thinks, and he is by Louis’s side in a flash.

“Mon cher, these are so much better than the last! I can vividly imagine how beautiful they will be wrapped around the fence surrounding our home – what’s with the confusion, Louis? We _are_ decorating the fence, yes?”

“I’m afraid it will be too much for those looking from the outside.” Louis’s voice is level and he speaks slowly, so not to offend his lover. Perhaps his unveiled hesitation along with the perplexed expression on his face will change Lestat’s mind.

But it becomes apparent rather quickly that Lestat will have none of this. “Nonsense, Louis! Have you the slightest idea how important it is to me that we get this right? Disregard what anyone may think of the end result right now. I want us to stand out in this street. For once, I crave the attention of mortals.”

 _You’re always craving attention,_ Louis wants to say, but he closes his eyes and digresses. “I suppose that,” he opens his eyes and trains them on Lestat’s grey ones, “you’d like me to source something ‘unique’ for the banisters too, then?”

When Lestat’s mouth breaks into a huge grin, fangs visible and all, Louis knows what the answer is. Yes.

He bows his head and disappears, and Lestat turns his focus back to his painting once again. This time, he manages a full half hour alone in his solitude without disturbance. In these thirty minutes he creates what would be ten hours worth of work for a mortal artist, but even then he is still convinced that his piece is not good enough to be considered complete. For a few moments he sits in total silence, finger rested against his lip as he ponders the consequences of not finishing it.

And then there is the sound of Louis’s arrival.

Because Lestat isn’t lost in his artwork like he was earlier, he hears Louis long before said vampire reaches the door to the study. His shoes tap gently off the kitchen floor downstairs, and then the muffled thumps of him ascending up the carpeted stairs. Another five minutes pass before the door opens, quieter this time.

Revealing flashing silver lights, Louis says confidently “Unlike the gold, these flash and will attract attention to the banister and then the rest of the porch too, as opposed to just the fence if we were to leave the banister untouched.”

Lestat likes this idea very much and he rises to praise his lover before stopping suddenly, just as he opens his mouth. He still needs Louis gone.

“A splendid plan, cherí, but I... I wonder if it will be enough or if we may need something entirely different for the front door...”

“Lestat!” Louis shouts, with exhaustion evident in his voice. Not the exhaustion that can be solved with a few hours of sleep, but rather the tiredness of someone who has put their all into pleasing another and received nothing in return. He drops the ground carelessly, and Lestat swears he’s pouting. “You have promised me every night this December to take me to see the lights in the city sometime before Christmas. Twenty-three nights have passed and you have yet to stick to your promise.”

Lestat blinks and studies the black knitted fabric of Louis’ jumper. “Did I...?”

“Yes. You did.” Louis gracefully steps over the discarded Christmas lights and he only manages another three steps before Lestat is in front of him to prevent him from seeing what is on the desk. “You promised, and I expect you to follow through.”

“The night is still young. There is plenty of time for you to find us another decoration. Perhaps a light?”

“Find _you_ another decoration, you mean. I want to see the city lights, not run after other kinds.”

Lestat smiles upon noticing the strop that Louis is beginning to pull and he holds Louis’ arms, gently at first, until his grip becomes more forceful once Louis is cornered against the wall.

“Louis, look at me as I speak. I want you to know that I mean this,” Lestat says sincerely. This is the most serious Louis has heard him sound all night. With a (very unsuccessful) effort to hide his annoyance, Louis raises his head up. “I promise you, I swear by both our lives, I shall take you to the lights as soon as you have done as I asked of you. Yes? Is that okay?”

Louis diverts eye contact and cocks his head as he tries to decide. It’s impossible to ignore the strong hold Lestat has of his arms.

“Yes,” he finally speaks, only after Lestat kisses him in an attempt to bribe him. “Yes, fine. I trust you.”

And then he’s gone.

 _I trust you._ Lestat’s chest aches. He spares a glance to his watercolor painting and resists the urge to tear it apart with the same anger he usually only reserves for kills. He has left everything worryingly late. Has he even purchased a suitable gift for Louis? He can’t recall doing so. This painting is the last chance he has to put a smile on his lover’s face and he can’t even get that right. And now this plan of venturing into the city he apparently suggested three weeks ago has been sprung on him out of the blue the very night before Christmas, and this further limits the already short amount of time he can spend on his art.

With a loud groan and a punch to the table, Lestat picks up a paintbrush.

****

Two hours pass before Louis returns. It’s going on 11pm.

In his hands are a holly, another set of gold lights, several Christmas tree ornaments, and draped over one arm is a black cloak. He quickly places the item of clothing on the sofa – he must have bought it for himself; shouldn’t Lestat be doing that? – and then approaches Lestat.

“Is this enough?” Though his voice is full of desperation, amusement still lingers in his words. How he manages to find entertainment in this situation is unfathomable to Lestat, especially since he’s been running around for most of the evening.

The truth is, it’s more than enough, and Lestat is beyond happy with what Louis has done tonight. He wants more than anything to take Louis’ hands and kiss each one; to praise him for going all out to please his lover; to kiss him as a thank you and perhaps reward him with a gift that doesn’t require wrapping paper and only needs him to lie still and keep quiet until he’s been edged too far to do otherwise; to love him and show love to him.

Instead, Lestat shakes his head. He needs more time.

The hurt on Louis’s face makes him regret his choice right away. Louis gulps and his mouth twists a little, almost angrily but not quite there yet, and he stares at Lestat with vacant, tired eyes.

He’s done.

“I’m done,” Louis voices Lestat’s thought. “Find your own stuff. I’m leaving. I’ll return for sunrise, maybe.”

The final word strikes a chord in Lestat but before he can speak the truth and fix things, Louis has left the room as quietly as he came. No anger, just hurt, and Lestat is at a loss for what to do.

Once seated, he dwells on the events of tonight as he swirls more colours on the paper. He must get this perfect, but Louis doesn’t know about this, does he? He is blissfully unaware of Lestat’s plan, but he _is_ aware of the broken promise about going to the city. That is probably the location he is headed for right this minute.

To run after him or to remain in this study and hope that enough work will be done tonight to win Louis’ forgiveness? The former option is the most sensible, but that would mean no gift for his Louis come tomorrow night. But if Lestat does not show up to the city before midnight, would Louis even _want_ something from him?

Thirty minutes. Lestat could get there in thirty minutes.

But the painting...

He spends another five minutes on it, until he looks up while conjuring up a new concept for it and catches sight of the new coat Louis brought home still lying on the sofa, exactly as it was before he left.

Lestat’s ears pick up the sound of rain dripping off the windows, and he remembers that Louis’s outfit choice of this evening was nothing other than a black jumper that hangs too loose on his frame to keep him dry.

A loud crash sounds as he accidentally knocks the cup of water off the desk with the speed he stands up at.

“Dammit, Louis!” He shouts to no-one, and he grabs the cloak and the painting before rushing out the door.

****

11:51PM, and he locates Louis alone in the middle of the street staring up at a starless sky and showing no signs of discomfort whenever rain hits off his face. He seems to glow in the city lights, but maybe that’s just because he is the only person Lestat is paying attention to in this vast sea of people.

He doesn’t say anything, just walks slowly up to the side of Louis and wraps his right arm around Louis’s shoulder. The way Louis leans into the touch lets Lestat know instantly that he is forgiven.

“You made it.” Louis is pleased and it’s clear that he is forcing back laughter. Lestat is curious as to why, until it hits him that there is very little surprise in Louis’s voice.

“You planned this, didn’t you? You left, knowing I would come after you.”

Though his head is still tilted upwards, Louis’s grin is still noticeable. Lestat wraps the coat around him and kisses his cheek. “Well, you succeeded in your promise.”

“Did I?”

“Midnight is yet to arrive. It is still the 24th. You did.”

Feeling rather proud of himself, Lestat smiles and he spares a glance at his paper to ensure that it is still intact. Louis is too lost in the scenery to notice.

“Louis, mon cher, come.” Lestat holds his hand out for Louis to take, and they walk along the damp sidewalk to the nearest sheltered area, which is a table outside a closed café that still has the parasol up. They sit so that they are facing each other, and Lestat relishes in how beautiful his Louis looks in his new coat. It contrasts perfectly with his pale skin.

Inhaling a breath despite it being unnecessary, Lestat slides the paper across the metallic table and watches Louis intently, patiently awaiting his reaction.

Louis frowns at first and picks up the paper cautiously, a little perplexed, and upon closer inspection his features begin to soften and he appears to smile widely, but a single drop of blood falls from his eye.

“You created this?” His voice quivers, and all Lestat can do is nod.

Soon, the distance between them becomes unbearable and by the time midnight has approached, Lestat has already moved into one of the chairs directly to the left of Louis, as opposed to sitting across from him. The couple wordlessly observe the painting, Louis admiring every part of it while Lestat silently wonders if this is a worthy Christmas gift for Louis, because although this is their first time celebrating Christmas properly with decorations and all, finding the perfect special item for each other has been an ongoing tradition between them for over a century now. In Lestat’s state of mind, he is convinced this is one of his weaker choices of gifts. Even Louis’s emotional reaction that Lestat had originally hoped for does nothing to change his belief.

On the paper is an amazingly detailed painting of Louis and Claudia, Claudia clad in her favorite green dress while playing her piano, and Louis stood with his elbows rested on the top of the instrument with his hands cupping his face, and he’s gazing at his daughter with an infinite amount of love in his eyes. How Lestat managed to convey this much emotion into a single painting is beyond Louis.

“This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Maybe even more beautiful than the moment itself.” Louis’s voice cracks and Lestat immediately rests his hand on top of Louis’s to comfort him. “It’s incredible, Lestat. Thank you.”

“To this day it remains my favourite memory of you two.”

Talking of Claudia is a sensitive subject for both vampires, and only in recent years have they been able to mention her name without arguments or heartache arising. Therefore, instead of Louis being upset, he feels a bittersweet sort of happiness, and Lestat’s words make his chest warm.

“And the reason for that?”

“You were so _alive_. She was lost in her music; you were lost in her happiness. I watched you two for hours that night, knowing it may not last and wondering if we would ever find that calmness again if we were to lose it.”

For the first time since meeting here tonight, Louis looks up at his lover. Light reflects off his eyes and his mouth is curved into a tiny smile. Lestat can’t control himself when he gives Louis a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“I know now that I am capable of finding that same happiness,” he continues and maintains eye contact with Louis. “With you right now, for example.”

The younger vampire drops his gaze to the table and his dark hair conceals his face. For a short while, Lestat thinks this silence will last for a couple of hours, but then Louis’s head shoots up.

“I understand now.”

“Understand what, mon cher?” Lestat asks, confused at his lover’s sudden cryptic attitude.

“You wouldn’t take me to the lights until Christmas Eve so that we would be here on Christmas, and that has allowed you to give me this for a reason, and it means both tie in as one whole gift. Was this what you wanted all along?”

Truthfully, Lestat had hoped to present the painting to Louis in the comfort of their own home and then maybe sleep with him if he were in the mood to do so as a thank you, but now that Louis has vocalized his thoughts, explaining the original plan would sound extremely bad in comparison, so Lestat simply smiles and agrees.

“Yes. Yes, that was it, love.”

“Couldn’t you have just told me?” Louis absentmindedly intertwines his fingers with Lestat’s and uses his other hand to lightly trail his fingers above the back of Lestat’s hand. “I feel guilty for leaving so angrily now. There was no need for such a dramatic reaction”

The same emotion starts to build up in Lestat, too, because he’s essentially lying through his teeth telling his lover something that isn’t true. Should he confess? Would Louis find humor in it?

Louis resumes his anxious rambling and as soon as he says, “I must show more gratefulness towards your efforts to make me smile,” Lestat cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

“You will try to kill me again-,” he ignores the cold yet amused glare Louis shoots in his direction, “-if I tell you this, but I had genuinely forgotten about the lights until your little bitch fit earlier this evening. So if it brings peace to your mind, Louis, I am just as bad as you when it comes to this sort of stuff.”

The last thing Lestat expects is for Louis to laugh and it seems that the action catches Louis off guard too, because as soon as he starts, he covers his mouth and tries to conceal it, which ends up making him laugh even harder than before. Lestat finds himself doing the same, though he isn’t sure why.

“Lestat, you wonderful idiot,” Louis says once he manages to calm down enough to speak. “And here I am thinking I _meant_ something to you.” The entire statement is said with a smile and another chuckle, but Lestat focuses too much on the words and too little on the sarcasm behind them to find comfort in Louis’s actions.

He sits up straight and curls his fingers around Louis’s wrist, gently rubbing circles into the skin. “You mean the world to me, Louis. I mean that.” He punctuates his sentence with another kiss. “Upsetting you wasn’t my intentions. I just wanted you out of the house while I finished this. I didn’t mean to neglect your wishes and I am infinitely sorry that I did so. I love you.”

Louis covers his face with his free hand for a few seconds and proceeds to look at the painting again while he processes Lestat’s words. He can’t take his eyes off it; he is continuously being drawn back to the detail.

“You also mean the world to me,” he replies, and when he turns to face Lestat he repeats his sentence again. “You forgetting about the lights isn’t bothering me now that I know this is what you were avoiding it for. I suppose you were unable to simply tell me and also avoid unnecessary drama, though?”

“It would ruin the element of surprise, which is an important aspect of presents.”

“Right.” Louis laughs quietly and rests his head in his hand. “Come walk with me? When I requested for us to come here to see the lights, spending the night at a café table wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

Lestat has stood up before Louis has finished his sentence, and they walk hand in hand back to the street Louis was previously on. Christmas lights are everywhere; wrapped around trees, flashing on windows, attached to streetlights – it is rather pleasing to the eye, Lestat has to admit, and what’s even more pleasing is the way Louis smiles when he sees it all.

“They shine as bright as your eyes,” Lestat says and a hint of nervousness lingers in his voice. It vanishes when Louis looks at him, still smiling, and he’s so close that Lestat only has to move forward a couple of inches to kiss him.

Lestat does exactly that; kisses Louis lovingly and embraces tightly, and when they pull apart from each other, Lestat has already decided what memory his next art piece is going to be focused on.

**Author's Note:**

> If you read this far thank you very much! Feedback is appreciated as always, I hope you all enjoyed <3
> 
> Also a huge thank you to @patnickstump for betta-ing<3


End file.
